


Dire: Nightmares

by LeoArcana



Series: Dire 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoArcana/pseuds/LeoArcana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel had had nightmares since the day they managed to bring Dean home.  They'd lessened after Dean had gotten better, thankfully.  But Dean never had any nightmares.  Castiel figured with no memories, there was nothing to actually form a full nightmare.  Until the night Dean does remember something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dire: Nightmares

Castiel woke up with a start with a layer of sweat clinging to his skin and his heart hammering in chest.  He looked around the darkened room in a panic and dug his fingers into whatever he was holding.  The object shifted and pulled itself from Castiel’s hold, then laid over his hands.  Castiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again to look down to see Dean’s arm embedded with nail marks.  Castiel carefully glanced over his shoulder, trying to not to disturb Dean more than he had already, to see the skinwalker still fast asleep.  He breathed a sigh of relief and lifted his head to see what time it was.  _3:17am._

Castiel settled back against Dean’s chest and relaxed, but kept his eyes open.  It wasn’t the first time he’d been woken up in the middle of the night by a nightmare.  By the same nightmare.

At some point in his dreams, one of two things would always lead to the recurring nightmare; either a door he went through or if he was running for any reason.  The door would always open to the inside of an elevator with terrified people on board, frantically smashing the buttons as he fell through; forced to the ground by something catching his leg.  He’d turn over to find Dean snarling viciously with blackened eyes.  He’d try to drag Castiel out, thrashing his head side to side, as the doors repeatedly tried and failed to close.  But the nightmare didn’t always continue the way the memory had. 

Some nights, kicking Dean in the face wasn’t good enough or he missed.  Dean would sink his fangs into the flesh of Castiel’s leg, thrash and tear a chunk out.  He’d chomp down, scraping and cracking the bone, and drag Castiel’s closer until another piece of his body gave way.  His flesh would be rent from bones that would break, his organs ripped from his body, his chest would collapse as if made of tooth picks…

The other variation of the nightmare ended like this sometimes as well.  If he was running in his dreams, wherever he was would darkened and concrete walls would rise to form a cold, hard hallway.  Whatever the reason for running would dissolve into adrenaline and fear as the hallway walls and floors became stained with blood.  He would catch up to Dean, who would lower his head and bristle with a menacing growl as he stalked over bodies towards him.  Gabriel’s voice would cut through, telling him to run.  He always did.  But sometimes Dean caught him before he reached the elevator.

 

The nightmares had kept their intensity for as long as Dean was rabid.  Once they’d taken him to the healing water and John traded his life for his son’s sanity, the nightmares had begun to ease.  They didn’t happen as frequently and less often did Dean catch and kill him.  The gradually became memories playing themselves out and Castiel believed he could handle them.  Until the night Dean and crawled in his bed and slept at his feet.

That had been the most terrifying nightmare thus far that night.  His subconscious screaming and wailing about the beast that had tried to drag him out by the leg to kill him was now sleeping on the leg he’d bitten.  Honestly, Castiel was surprised he hadn’t kicked Dean reflexively.  Or maybe he had and the skinwalker just didn’t care.  The nightmares had picked up their terror once more and held it for as long as it took Castiel’s fears of relapse to settle.

Since Dean had come back to senses completely about three weeks ago, this was the first nightmare.  It lacked the intensity and bone-chilling fear of previous nights, but still enough to startle him. 

He looked down at Dean’s arm, at the little crescent shaped marks he’d left on his arm.  He sighed and lightly ran his fingers over the skin in an apologetic manner.  As he did, he wondered idly if Dean had any nightmares.  He remembered him having a few unpleasant nights before all of this and these caresses had always eased his mind.  But Dean had never woken up from any.  Not then and not now.  He knew what he’d done, but maybe having only Castiel’s recountance and no memories helped him cope. 

Castiel let out a slow breath and turned over in Dean’s arms, tucking his head underneath Dean’s chin.  He grumbled slightly and shifted; Castiel knew immediately he’d woken him up.

“Okay?” Dean mumbled.

“I’m fine,” Castiel replied quietly.

Dean ran a hand along Castiel’s shoulder and upper arm, then moved his head to get a look at Castiel’s face.

“N-not fine.  Very, um…sweaty?”

There was a tone to his sleepy voice that told Castiel he was guessing on the word.

“Yeah, I’m a little sweaty,” Castiel laughed softly.

“Very,” Dean corrected.

“It was just a bad dream,” Castiel dismissed, “I’ll go dry off if it bothers you.”

He didn’t wait for Dean’s response.  He was a little more sweaty than he’d thought he was.  Castiel got up and trudged off to the bathroom to grab a towel.  He glanced at his reflection, noting the paled color of his skin.  He ran the towel over himself once more and tossed it aside as he went back to his room.  He slipped under the blankets and into Dean’s waiting arms.

“What about?”

“Hm?”

“Bad dream.  What about?”

Castiel chewed on his lip, debating about telling the truth or making something up.  He didn’t want Dean to feel worse than he already did.

“I was being chased,” Castiel said simply.

“By what?”

Castiel kept his mouth shut.

“…me?”

He nodded minutely and felt Dean’s body tense.  He wrapped his arms tighter around Castiel and curled his body around him as best he could.

“’m so-sorry,” Dean whimpered.

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel whispered.

He snaked his arms around Dean and traced soothing patterns with his fingers over Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s not,” Castiel repeated earnestly, “It’s just a bad memory.”

Dean whined lowly, but gradually began to relax under Castiel’s touch.

 

The next morning, Dean seemed to be trying to keep to himself.  Not in a way that made it seem like he was avoiding Castiel, but more in a way that he was trying not to chase him in any way.  He didn’t follow Castiel from room to room as he often did and he never reached to touch Castiel unless Castiel made the first move. 

Castiel put up with it until just after dinner.  When he came into the living room and sat down, intent on making Dean move first.  From the corner of his eye, he could see Dean fidgeting like he wanted to, but kept himself rooted in place.  Castiel lasted about five minutes before he snapped.

“Dean, I know you feel bad about what happened,” Castiel started, “But I honestly do not blame you for it.  It’s just a memory— a bad dream and you trying to keep your distance isn’t going to help.”

Dean averted his eyes to his fingers as he fidgeted them.  He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find something to say but coming up with nothing.  Looking at him, Castiel felt a twinge of guilt.  There was a possibility Dean hadn’t been doing this all day for his sake.

“Bad dre— Um…have ba-ad dreams too,” Dean admitted.

Castiel mentally cursed himself.

“They, uh, not make sense,” Dean added.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Not make sense,” Dean repeated, “Not seem bad, but very, um…”

“Scary?” Castiel guessed.

Dean made a face; that wasn’t the right word, but it was close.

“Unsettling?” Castiel offered.

“Yes.  Unset-ling.  Not right.”

“Why?  What happens?”

Dean scrunched up his face and did his best to explain.  They were hazy dreams of himself, Castiel, Sam and John.  Castiel would invite him to follow and whenever he did was when John and Sam decided to rough house with him.  They kept interrupting his chances to spend time with Castiel and sometimes they played too hard, but that had happened in the past.  That’s just how rough housing went.  But there was something off about these dreams, some part of him knew they weren’t as innocent as they seemed.  The closer he got to Castiel or longer he chased after him, the more unnerving the dream became.

What the dreams really were were false memories created by the hysteria.  They were what he’d seen as opposed to the horrors he was committing.  Of course, neither of them knew that.  But Dean had been getting the same unnerving feeling whenever he followed Castiel around the house. 

Castiel apologized and Dean simply shook his head, as if to say he didn’t need to apologize.  Castiel pursed his lips and held another apology.  Dean shifted restlessly before scooting over to Castiel and laying his head down in his lap.  Castiel tried to keep his smile under control, but he could still feel himself grinning like an idiot.  He leaned back on the couch and picked up the remote to turn the TV on to fill the silence.  It hadn’t gotten much use, but he figured they could both use its mind-numbing properties. 

Dean laid still and quite, paying more attention to picking at frayed patch on the knee of Castiel’s jeans.  Castiel flipped through a few channels as he subconsciously started rubbing Dean’s shoulder and arm.  It was becoming a habit to do so in peaceful moments like this.  At some point, Castiel had found something the watch and became so absorbed in it he had stopped his motions.  During a commercial, he finally noticed Dean had stopped picking at the fray and fallen asleep.  It wasn’t that late, but he was probably just bored and a little tired. 

Castiel stretched and went back to watching TV.  The previous show had ended and now some comedy from a few years ago was coming on.  It was actually entertaining, definitely worth more than one season, as Castiel had found out that’s all it had after searching it on his phone.  But it came to one scene that had Castiel tensing slightly and shifting.  One of the characters kept stopping an elevator door from closing as he tried to talk to the other person on it.  That person was annoyed by them and kept hitting the close button.  Only to have it stopped and the doors retreating open again.

The scene had run its course and Castiel silently pleaded for them to move on.  Once more, the man stopped the doors from closing with another ping.  Then without warning, Dean burst into screams and bolted away from Castiel faster than he could blink.  He scrambled and fell over the back of the couch with a loud thud, his eyes flying wide open in fear as he righted himself as fast as possible and searched the living room frantically.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Castiel was beside him in an instant.

“Hey, Dean.  Dean.”

He grabbed Dean’s face and made him look at him.  Dean whined and pulled away, his eyes filling with more fear and anxiousness as they scanned over Castiel’s face and darted to look at everything around them.

“Dean, it’s me.  Hey, it’s okay, it’s me,” Castiel said.

He tried to keep his voice calm, but it only elevated Dean’s distress.  He wrenched out of Castiel’s hands and staggered back, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes.  The same look he’d given Castiel just before he ran last time.  Castiel kept his eyes focused intently on Dean, waiting for the slightest muscle twitch.  The split second Dean’s arm flinched, Castiel lunged forward and threw his arms around him.  He was not going to let him go this time.

Dean yelped and howled, his voice high in distress as he pushed at Castiel to free himself.  Castiel only tightened his hold, prepared to hang on for as long as humanly possible.  Dean fought and struggled, though Castiel could tell it wasn’t with his full strength, for several long minutes before giving up and collapsing back to the floor.  He curled in on himself, hiding his face from Castiel.  But Castiel could still feel his body trembling and see his chest rising and falling irregularly.

He chanced letting go and crawled over Dean, taking hold of his wrist and gently pulling it away from his face.  Dean whimpered and whined, turning his face to the floor.  Castiel moved to hunch down low beside his face.

“Dean.”

No response.

“It’s okay, it’s me.”

A choked gasp escaped him.

“Dean, hey, look me,” Castiel spoke softly, “Dean, look at me.”

Dean pulled his hand free from Castiel and used it to shield his face.  Castiel felt a lump in his throat as he laid down in front of Dean.  He grabbed his hand this time and laced his fingers through Dean’s as he moved his hand away from his face.  Dean still kept his face hidden with his other arm and the floor.

Castiel tried to swallow against the lump in his throat and blinked away the tears in his eyes.  Castiel rubbed his thumb along the side of Dean’s hand and brought his other hand up to drag his knuckles gently over the side of Dean’s ribs.  Another choked sob fell from Dean. 

“Why?”

Dean’s voice sounded weak and broken and Castiel wanted to do nothing more than gather him up in his arms.  Laying on their sides on the floor didn’t allow for it very well, but Castiel scooted closer, almost close enough to touch his forehead to Dean’s if it weren’t for his arm in the way. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Dean sniffled and attempted to steady his breathing.

“W-why still h-h-here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why s-still here?  Wh-why help?

Castiel was thrown off by the question and scowled slightly in confusion.

“Because…I love you.”

“Why?  Tried… tried to…”

Dean couldn’t finish his sentence.  Castiel could feel him fighting back a fit of sobs.  He shushed him and squeezed his hand tighter, waiting until Dean either broke down again or he calmed himself down.  He attempts at resisting resulted in hiccups and ragged breathing, occasionally alternating between crushing Castiel’s hand and pulling away.  But Castiel never let go.  Several times, Castiel thought Dean had calmed down, but right then his strangled sobs and trembling would pick right up again.  When he finally did quiet down for good, Castiel suspected he’d gone numb inside.

“Elevator,” Dean murmured.

Castiel perked up, but said nothing.

“R-rememb-ber elevator,” Dean hiccupped.

Castiel didn’t know what to say.  He’d told Dean about it, but he’d glassed over it and made it less than it was.  Castiel hummed to himself and brought his free hand up somewhat awkwardly to Dean’s other hand.  He moved it without resistance and Dean made no attempt to bring it back up when Castiel let go.  He worked his fingers between Dean’s face and floor and coaxed him into looking at him.  The green of his eyes stood out brightly against the red tinge.

“I’m here because I love you,” Castiel whispered, “Because I’m not mad and I’m not hurt.”

In truth, Dean’s fangs had nicked his skin fairly well.  It had taken about two weeks for the wound to fade, but it left no scar and hadn’t hindered Castiel at all.

“B-but—“

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted, “I’m not mad, I’m not hurt.  You didn’t do it on purpose—“

“Y-yes, I d-did.”

“No, you didn’t.  You weren’t you.  They… made into something else,” Castiel said, “It wasn’t your fault.  Anything you did, it’s _their_ fault.  You would never do those things, right?”

Dean started to turn to hide his face, but Castiel turned him to look at him again.

“Right?”

Dean nodded once.

Castiel tipped his head forward to press against Dean’s.

“I don’t blame you.  I understand why you think… it’s your fault, but I will never stop telling you it isn’t, okay?”

“…’kay.”

“I love you,” Castiel said.

He pressed a light kiss to Dean’s nose.

“L-love you too, C-cas,” Dean mumbled.

He inched closer to Castiel, tucking himself up against him.  Castiel switched which hand he was holding Dean’s with for more comfort and to bring it up to the back of Dean’s neck.  He kissed the top of Dean’s head and toyed with the short hairs at the base of his head.    He could feel the tension in Dean’s body slowly ebbing along with the warm tears blossoming over his shirt.  They stayed that way for nearly an hour.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“…floor hurts l-like this.”

Castiel snorted a laugh and pulled away from Dean, who kept hold of his hand.  He pushed himself up off the floor, grateful for the pleasure-pain of his blood circulating through his arm and hip.  Dean groaned and rolled over, taking a second to breathe deeply before sitting up.

“You know what would make you feel better?”

“Hm?”

“Pie.”

Dean stared at him.  He wasn’t denying it by any means.  But last he had checked, Castiel had nothing to make a pie with.  Not to mention it was getting late now.

“Where?”

“Well, the Roadhouse is open late.  Plus there’s a few diners in town that are twenty-four hours,” Castiel answered, “Unless you don’t wanna go.”   

“Want to,” Dean said quickly.

He hadn’t had pie in god knows how long.  He got up with a grunt and went to get dressed.  He came back wearing his own clothes; Sam had given them to Castiel before they left.  As much as Castiel liked seeing Dean in his clothes, he had to admit these looked far better strictly because they fit better. 

Dean took the middle seat of the Impala, which wasn’t exactly meant to be a seat given the location of the gear shift.  But he kept one leg folded under himself and the other out of the way enough.  He leaned against Castiel as he drove, watching only the steady needles on the dashboard and feeling the cool wind whipping in through the open window.

They ended up going to a diner; Castiel decided he didn’t want to see Jo or Ash right now, if it was even either of their shifts.  The diner wasn’t very busy, which was a blessing to them.  Castiel would rather not be around a lot of people at the moment and Dean didn’t like too many people being around anyway.  That was clearly more evident as he clung to Castiel’s side, nearly breaking his hand in his hold as they walked in.  Castiel started to wonder what was making so much more nervous than usual, but then realized this was the first time he’d been around any number of people since he’d recovered.  Castiel grimaced at his own idea of going out.

“Do you just wanna get it to go?” Castiel offered.

Dean hesitated for a second then nodded his head quickly and muttered another apology.  They stood at the pie casing, quietly bickering over which pie to get.  Since they’d driven all the way here, they may as well get a whole pie.  Castiel kept trying to convince Dean to get one of the sweeter pies; Dean snipped that those were no longer pies, but glorified brownies and cakes pretending to be pies.  He searched for a pecan pie, but there was only an empty plater where it should be.  Eventually they settled on marionberry, paid for the pie and left.

A few times on the way home, Castiel caught Dean sneaking his hand into the box for a small piece and Castiel smacked his hand every time.  Dean pouted and grumbled something about not wanting to wait.

Of course, that meant as soon as they were home, Dean was content to toss the lid off the box and start in with his hands.  Castiel stopped him just as he poked the pie crust and insisted on eating like normal human beings.  Well, civilized beings.  Dean groaned and agreed reluctantly, bouncing his leg impatiently as Castiel cut the pie. 

Unsurprisingly, Dean had eaten half the pie before Castiel had even gotten through his second slice.  But he stopped himself there; the other half was Castiel’s.  Castiel finished his slice and put the rest in the fridge for later.  He wasn’t that hungry and was actually getting tired. 

They striped out of their clothes, much to Dean’s relief, and crawled into bed.  Dean laid out on his back and Castiel tucked himself into the crook of his arm.  Castiel could tell Dean wasn’t falling asleep anytime soon, but he wasn’t restless either.  Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the steady beat of Dean’s heart.

At just past midnight, Dean nearly threw Castiel from the bed with a scream of terror that sent Castiel’s heart and mind into overdrive.  He scrambled back up to Dean, now thrashing in his sleep and yelling.  He tried to pin Dean’s arms down for his own safety and yelled over him to be heard.  It took two minutes of yelling and struggling to wake Dean up.  When he did, his eyes were wide and fearful, tears immediately pooling and spilling over.  He shied away from Castiel’s touch, muttering a litany of apologies.  Castiel didn’t bother with reminding it wasn’t his fault, he just accepting the apologies and hushed Dean.  He spoke softly and ran his hands over his skin in the most calming ways he could think of, bringing Dean down to sniffling hiccups and slow tears. 

Castiel stayed awake with Dean until he quieted down completely.  He made himself small and tucked up against Castiel as he continued shushing and caressing him. 

At around two in the morning, Castiel was shoved violently back.  Once again, Castiel stayed awake until he managed to calm Dean and lull him back to sleep.  Forty minutes later, Dean was thrashing about wildly.  Castiel soothed him back to sleep.  An hour and half later, he was nearly deafened.  Once he got Dean to stop yelling, he struggled to stay awake, but he forced himself to stay up until Dean was calm.

Dean had two more nightmares that night.  Castiel hadn’t expected the nightmares to resonate so strongly in him; at his worst, Castiel only woke up twice.  The memory had scarred Dean far more deeply.  The next morning, both of them were exhausted.  Castiel napped at work during his breaks, ignoring Ash’s teasing tone of being kept up all night.  

Dean hadn’t slept at all during the day.  He fell asleep almost immediately once night came and they were both under the blankets.  The nightmares woke Dean up almost every hour and a half all night, but Castiel never lost his patience and always stayed awake until Dean’s eyes fluttered closed. 

Castiel never had another nightmare related to the incident again; perhaps his subconscious had decided that the creature next to him was no longer a threat.  However, Dean was plagued by the nightmare.  There were a few rare times, Dean hadn’t woken up violently at all.  And Castiel might not have known he’d woken up were it not for his body shaky with restrained cries.  Dean always apologized, for everything.  Castiel would remind him on occasion that it wasn’t his fault, but largely just accepted the apology.  That seemed to do more good.

The nightmares didn’t stop any time soon and Castiel didn’t expect them too.  He never got angry or impatient that it was taking so long for Dean to get over them. He’d still wake up several times a night, but Castiel was always there for him.

**Author's Note:**

> because someone finally sent a request to my tumblr :D actually multiple ideas, but i liked this one the best. it made the most sense for immediately following Dire. but i'll most likely do one or two more of these later  
> prompt: Dire timestamp ideas: ~~1) Dean bottoming. (maybe for Cas' birthday) Cause it never happened in the main fic. >.> 2) Healing fluff, Cas working on helping Dean talk and read better. 3) Dean getting a job!! 4) Gabe and Kail Christmas/Thanksgiving with Cas and Dean~~ 5) Dean/Cas nightmares about what happened in the elevator and resulting comfort/healing.


End file.
